Another Day, Another Dead
by DeathBladeVI
Summary: Ten years have passed since the initial outbreaks. Carl survives as a scavenger in the D.C ruins after breaking all relations with his father and the group. He comes into contact with two people and helps them with their quest. He must face the group once again. Clementine and her new friend Joseph must journey into the heart of D.C and kill the leader of a vicious raider group.
1. Beginnings

_"I may be crazy, but it keeps me from going insane."_

_-Waylon Jennings_

The walker groaned as it shambled on. Life with this new enemy was not hard for Joseph Giovanni Garcia. It had been over ten years since the change had happened, the former elementary school student now a grown adult. Standing at over five-foot nine, weighing a good one hundred and thirty pounds, the scrawny man pointed his hunting rifle through the crack of the window. It was a hot afternoon, the walkers shambling and groaning. Joseph chuckled as he peered through the scope of the rifle looking for targets of interest.

The man had grown up in the city of Chicago, but had moved on when the city was overrun with walkers. He had been living alone for the last ten years, barely having interaction with the world around him. He had things that the United States Government had actually survived. Fled to the West of the Rockies, putting as much distance as possible between them and the walkers. He chuckled, not believing the absurdity of it. The light streamed through the cracks of the walls and the windows as he calmly looked through the scope again.

Joseph was a Mexican Asian. His parents having died in the early days of the zombie apocalypse, he had grown to survive and thrive in this new harsh world. He had cropped black hair that he had cut in order to dissuade lice, light brown eyes that still held small scrapes of innocence and playfulness. A jagged scar received from a walker ran from his cheek to his eye. Wearing a duster with Kevlar armor underneath, he had a bandanna around his neck, goggles on top of his head, and he was wearing black jeans with combat boots tucked on his feet. He had hundreds of rounds of 30-06, which was the round that chambered the rifle. A pistol, police issued that he had found over six years ago, hung from a holster on his belt. Multiple knives were holstered on his ankle, knee, and chest, all within reach.

The suburbs of Washington D.C were not pretty. Almost no one managed to survive the walker attacks, and the ones that did fled the city. Literally thousands of walkers shuffled through the streets, looking for nothing. Joseph liked it, meaning that the open streets would be great for escapes. He didn't know why people tried to run down alleys or subway tunnels. If you had to survive, go out in the open.

Swinging his rifle around, he aimed it right at a group of walkers shuffling towards something. Then he heard three things he never thought he heard before. Birds chortling as they flew in the sky. Dogs barking as they ran away from the walkers. And a gunshot. Multiple gunshots. It seemed to be a pistol, and more and more walkers were moving towards the noise.

_Ahh fuck. What the hell can be? _

And with that, a shadow that moved a hell of lot faster than a walker started to sprint across the street. Pistol firing, the shadow downed three more walkers, their heads exploding. Then the shadow came into view. It was dressed in a regular shirt and jeans, jacket covering the arms. A ball cap was thrown on top of the head. Gloved hands ran across the back, grabbing onto something unseen. An Ice axe. Using it, the person smashed into the skull of the nearest walker, blood and brains exploding. With practiced ease the person unloaded three bullets into three different walkers. More and more walkers started to stream from everywhere.

_Damn idiot is going to get killed. There's got to be at least a thousand of them coming here. Mines and booby traps should be able to hold off any walkers that decide to visit me. Shit. I am signing my own death warrant. _

After not seeing another human being for two years, he was starting to get a little crazy. Shouldering his rifle once more, he breathed in, set his sights onto a walker that was groaning as it shuffled towards the person, and praying to a God that he never thought existed, pulled the trigger.

* * *

Clementine was just doing her job. After stumbling across a group of people that were extremely heavily armed and said that they were part of a government organization, she agreed, in exchange for more ammo and food, to draw off literally hundreds of walkers. She doubted that they really meant it, but she needed to get back to the group, so that they could move on to the West.

She was busy dismembering a walker when suddenly a huge bark of a rifle came roaring into her ears, and she looked to see the origin of the shot. A dead walker was just three paces away from her, a large exit wound showing through the head. The sound of more rifle shots were heard, and more and more walkers started to get their second pass to hell. Firing once more, she started to climb on top of a house, using the ice axe as a leverage, as learned from traveling with Molly for three years before she got killed by a bandit looking for an easy lay. She had killed all of the bandits, using the policeman's gun she had first used on her father figure Lee when she was just eight years old.

Leaping and grabbing a foothold, she kicked a walker right in the nose as it tried to grab onto her shoe. Stunned, the walker again tried to grab her leg,and succeeded. As it was about to drag her down, the rifle once more roared, and the walker dropped down, dead once more. Shrugging, she jumped onto the roof of the house, and using her pistol rang out three more shots before she reloaded. Five more clips. Sixty more bullets. Sixty more dead walkers.

* * *

The girl was good, Joseph had to give her that. At least thirty dead walkers, all of them with shots to the head or with the ice axe she carried. Reloading the rifle, he picked off five more walkers, his rifle barking and bullets raining down. Sliding the bolt again, he fired, the bullet screaming right into a walker. He watched as the walker died with the bullet going straight through the walker's head. Sliding the bolt and ejecting the brass, he made sure to keep all the brass with him. He knew how to make ammo, thanks to a crazy old guy that had taken care of him in the first three months of his journey, before being forced to journey alone.

As he fired and fired, he was grinning wickedly. The girl was good. Real good. Pretty to. But he had to care of that later. More walkers were streaming down the street, when suddenly he heard the music. He hadn't heard music in ten years.

_You'll take my life but I'll take yours too _  
_You'll fire your musket but I'll run you through _  
_So when your waiting for the next attack _  
_You'd better stand there's no turning back _  
_The bugle sounds the charge begins _  
_But on this battle field no one wins _  
_The smell of acrid smoke and horses breath as I plunge on into certain death._

Its funny that he was able to still recognize Iron Maiden after ten years.

_Too fucking funny._

**Just the intro. I just had this idea in my head, Clementine surviving, another survivor and the United States Government. I just wanted to see, what if this was like World War Z? Combine the both, the setting, and everything, and here we go! Don't expect regular updates. You ain't getting them.**


	2. Let's Meet

**Here is the next chapter of Another Day, Another Dead. To my esteemed reviewer Anonymous, don't worry, I am not going to just write one chapter and abandon it. backfromthedead91, I'll explain Molly's passing this chapter. And thanks for the follow**. **The story will contain Beth/Carl, but will take a while. Clementine/OC is planned but it will take a long while. Government is still in control and have launched a counterattack to retake the country.**

_"Go to Heaven for the climate, go to hell for the company."_

_**-**Mark Twain_

Joseph chuckled once more as he slid the bolt back, a new bullet being chambered. Firing again, the bullet sped out of the barrel an right into the skull of another walker. The brains splattered across the pavement as the walkers groaned, their arms outstretched. Joseph slid the bolt back once again, ejecting the brass and loading another round into the chamber. The music had died down, and inward, Joseph groaned. The walkers were now shifting their attention back to Clementine.

"Hello? Is there anyone in the area?" came a voice. Joseph looked over his shelter to see his ham radio, the normal static being replaced by a woman's voice, rich and strong. Taking the radio into his hand, he laid his rifle across his lap as he spoke into the radio.

"Yeah. My name is Joseph. Who is this?" he asked in a dark and rough voice.

"My name is Clementine. Was that you shooting from the house?" she asked in a more girlish voice. More feminine and more shy.

"Yes that was me. Now, please do me a favor and stay off the radio. If you can make it to my place then get to it, otherwise just sit tight. Somebody is coming to get us both."

That was when he heard the door leading to the house being kicked down.

_Ah shit! Walkers. Hopefully my traps are going to work..._

* * *

Carl Grimes yawned as he broke down the door to the house. Walkers were currently swarming the other side of the street, a girl that had decided to be walker bait was firing into the crowd, killing one after another. Carl smiled as he pulled out his .357 Python he had received from his father, before he had left the group over five years ago.

_Beth. I still miss you, but I can't return after what you and the group did to Rick and Judith...I will never forgive you. I hope you are happy with that whoreson of a bitch Armand. I really do. _

His heart was harden, his eyes were ice. The twenty-three year old was broken on the inside but on the outside, was as fierce as his father and mother was. HE still grieved for his mother, and still felt guilt, even though he knew that he did her a favor by shooting her in the head.

Adjusting his sheriff hat, he looked down. He was wearing his father's old deputy uniform. He had woven some bite-proof Kevlar armor into the uniform, allowing him to be bit in the shoulders, legs. chest. and neck area. But if he was bit in the arms, he was screwed. He scratched his dark brown beard, the stubble unruly. Going into the house, he raised his Python, scanning the area for walkers or traps. A lot of people had left their houses booby trapped. He spotted a mine, and lining up with the iron sights, fired a single bullet. The mine exploded, shrapnel digging into the old wood of the stairs it was placed on. This caused a chain reaction as mines and other explosive booby traps were destroyed.

"Well, that went better than I thought it would," he spoke aloud. Spinning his revolver, he let it slide right back into his holster. He grinned widely, before he heard the distinct noise of a high powered hunting rifle cracking. He immediately drew a hunting knife from his sheath on his belt, before crouching. A lot of the survivors in the D.C area where crazy and just in case, he wanted to prepare for the worst. It wouldn't be the worst he ever came across, if those raiders and bandits that lived in the White House were the prime examples of being crazy. Though they were terrible shots, they had enough firepower to take out an entire army.

The rifle continued to crack, before the all to known sound of a man slapping another clip of bullets into the rifle was heard. Carl started to slowly walk up the stairs, his knife in hand. The stairs creaked as he continued to go up the stairs, but the rifle continued to boom.

_Is this guy deaf? _

Carl gripped his revolver tighter as he walked up to the top of the stairs, getting ready to confront the mysterious gunman.

* * *

Clementine gripped the ice axe that she had received from Molly before she died. Another walker tried to climb up, but his head was soon exploding into a shower of brains and gore. Clementine grinned as she looked at the house where Joseph was. The glint from the scope shifted and soon, another walker's head was soon imploded, a bullet caving in his skull.

_Molly. Thank you for your guidance. This world has gone to shit hasn't it? I wish you were still at my side. But Christa and Omid need me to get those supplies. And Lee needs me as well. _

Molly had been the one who saved Clementine after she had fled the city. They had met another group of survivors and had made their way to a town outside of D.C. They had thrived until bandits and raiders from D.C had torched their town and killed Molly after they had rode into town looking for an easy lay and for easy prey. The people of the town had killed at least a dozen of them before fleeing, but not before Molly had been killed. They had scattered, and Clementine met Christa and Omid in another part of the city, and they had been surviving ever since.

"Hey, you, crazy girl on top of the house. Still cozy?" her radio echoed. The walkers were groaning as their heads and arms were raised up, thirsting for her blood.

"Who is this?" she asked. Her voice was still strong, though she was starting to crack from being on the roof. The sun was now basking in a blue field, the golden rays shining on the ruined city.

"Name is Sergeant Walker. We'll be there shortly. Tell your boyfriend to stop shooting and start packing up. As soon as we roll in, you two are going have a chat with the boss," the radio shot back at her.

Clementine felt her cheeks flush. She then glared t the radio, and with typical girl denial that had been taken place since the stone age yelled into the radio.

"He's not my boyfriend!"

* * *

Joseph continued to fire. His rifle was glowing red with the constant firing, but he didn't mind. Ejecting another bullet, he watched another walker's head being exploded by his rifle. He chuckled again, before he heard the soft noise of boots against wood.

_Shit! Walkers. Got to get my fire axe..._

Continuing to fire, he kept the rifle leveled, before detaching a hand and stretched it to a red axe that was right next to the window. He continued to fire as the door was opened softly, the door creaking as it protested the action.

Joseph then roared, his axe flashing. A glint of steel, and soon, a knife parried the sharp edge of the axe. Sliding off the fifteen inch blade, Joseph yelled again, before crashing the axe right above the door.

_Wait... Knife? Then this must be a survivor! _

Dropping the axe, he rolled back when the knife whistled right over his head. Grinning, he waited for the blade to whistle again, before slamming his elbow right into the man's gut. The man doubled over, winded, before Joseph slammed another elbow into his ribs, enough to knock the air out of his lungs, but not enough to injure him.

"Wait! I'm friendly!" he yelled. The man stopped struggling.

"You are?" the man asked with disbelief.

"Yes. Sorry for attacking you. Though you were a walker that had made it past my defenses. Name is Joseph, your friendly and crazy neighbor from across the street," and with that, he outstretched a hand.

"My name is Carl Grimes. I'm a scavenger that operates out from the old monument. Thought this part of town was abandoned," the man, no Carl, said. Carl was tall, standing at about five foot ten, and weighed around one hundred and fifty pounds. His brown hair was unruly, his beard beginning to grow. He was wearing an old deputy outfit with some Kevlar armor interwoven, and he had a lever action rifle, a revolver, and a hunting knife as weapons. A sheriff hat was happy at home on his head.

"No. I've been living here for a while now. Haven't seen any survivors for years. That girl from across the street was the first one I met for a while," Joseph said, before looking through the window. Clementine, the girl that he had contacted, was firing her gun again, and more walkers were dying.

"Huh, she's pretty," Carl said absent minded. Joseph muttered yeah, before hearing his radio speaking again.

"Hey Joseph, it's Clementine. You need to get out of there."

"Why?" he asked. But then he got his answer.

The house collapsed as a tank plowed right through it.

**I know, not that great. However, it is getting better, and I will soon be posting two thousand word chapters as I get more into the plot and we introduce more characters. This fanfiction will be one of the best I ever wrote! Maybe. Please review and leave your comments and thoughts! **


	3. The Prison and a Tank

Beth Greene looked outside the window and sighed. She missed Carl. When the group had turned on Rick and Judith, he had managed to escape and get out of the prison. Now, the heavily armed survivors were struggling. Without Rick's guidance and leadership, they had to resort to a council that had not agreed on anything but what to do with Rick and Judith. That was five years ago. Looking down, she was wearing a Kevlar vest that used to belong to Carl, before he had left, black pants, a pair of goggles, and was armed with an AR-15.

"I miss him too you know," a soft voice said behind her. She turned to see Maggie, her sister, and Gloria, her daughter. Maggie was dressed in a tank top and sweats, while Gloria had on her pajamas.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked tenderly. Maggie and Gloria nodded affirmative.

The prison was still standing, armed survivors patrolling the fences and the prison towers. The Woodbury survivors were a welcomed addition, even if they did try to sack the prison. The Governor had been killed by his own men and they had brought his body to the prison.

"How is Daryl and Glenn doing?" Beth asked. Maggie had a face of sadness on her face when she looked right into Beth's eyes.

"Daryl is still bitter over the handling of Rick and Judith. He's sealed off a portion of the prison just for him. We can't get in and he can't get out. We tried to get in there about five minutes ago and he put a crossbow bolt right into Carol's foot. Nobody is going to be able to get in there. Glenn is doing fine, he is on guard duty on the west wall," Maggie said, and Gloria, her five year old child started to whimper. She had seen her older friend Judith today, and she didn't want to mention what they did to her.

"Did you guys visit Judith?" Beth asked.

"Yeah...she is still angry with us. Rick too. The two are starving and dehydrated and the council is barely feeding them. We would have broken them out, but the council has too many men, too many guns."

Beth swore. The Grimes had been turned on. They had been accused of murder and theft by the Woodbury survivors, and the strongest of them had hunted them down. The group was outnumbered and could only watch as Rick had been beaten within an inch of his life while Judith was also beaten. A five year old girl, beaten within an inch of her life. The group had watched, and then was forced to beat Rick after he had recovered. Glenn had almost revolted, but they had threatened to do the same to Maggie and their newborn daughter.

Carl though, he had escaped. He had taken his dad's old uniform and equipment, and had shot his way out. Five Woodbury soldiers had been shot and killed, each in the head. The last she heard of Carl was from a group of traders going from camp to camp, trading food and weaponry, and they had heard of a scavenger in the D.C ruins that roamed there, dressed in a cop's uniform. That was him. That was also three years ago.

And the biggest reason why she felt so guilty was because she knew that she liked Carl as more than a friend, but when Armand came into her life, she thought she was in love. But the Mexican had proven to be a dangerous person, and had tried to rape her, but Daryl, on one of his night time walks, had put an arrow between his eyes.

"I wish we could have stopped this. Carl would have known what do," Beth muttered.

"I know. Carl would have known what do. He's just like his father," Maggie agreed. As the two conserved more, suddenly, shouts were heard. A swirl of lights were shining bright in the night's sky, and the sound of a blade going _whump whump whump, _was heard. It was in the air. Looking up, she saw something she never thought she would see again.

A helicopter was flying right over the prison, bright lights glaring out of the bottom. A searchlight soon started to crisscross across the prison.

"Survivors of the prison. This is the United States Army. We come in peace. Please do not shoot us," a loud speaker from out of the helicopter blared. Beth shielded her eyes as the helicopter flew over the north wall, the searchlight continuing to stream light over the prison walls.

"This is Israel Goddam. We come in peace as well, but do anything and we will respond with deadly force. Land in the courtyard. Keep your weapons holstered, or we will respond with deadly force. Repeat, keep weapons holstered, otherwise we will respond with deadly force!" a megaphone wielding man said from the prison walls.

"Beth. Get your rifle and head down to the courtyard and join Glenn, me, and the some of the boys. Have Maggie take over your post," her radio squawked.

"Yes Israel. Be right there," Beth said and she turned to Maggie.

"Maggie, I need you to keep watch here. I'm needed down there," she said and Maggie nodded.

"Get down there and go see what the hell is going on. We will be waiting for you," Maggie said and Beth hugged her sister and niece with fierceness.

Beth then raced down the stairs to the courtyard, only for to see the helicopter start to descend from it's spot in the sky. Dust was starting to pick up, and clouds of it started to blow. Several men armed with assault rifles were already there, their weapons aimed but lowered, as not to incur the wrath of the machine.

"My god. It's been years since I lost saw a freaking helicopter," muttered a man right next her. She nodded in agreement as the helicopter landed with grace that was unknown to this part of the world.

"Come out with your weapons holstered, otherwise we will respond with deadly force!" came the order from Israel. The left side of the helicopter slid opened, and three men appeared. But what they wore was what surprised her. Dressed in green, the men were armored like S.W.A.T, with green body armor that looked like chain mail. Their helmet looked like something from a retro science flashback, with chain mail dangling. They were warriors. They could destroy the entire prison just like that.

"My name is Sergeant Willy Nell of the United States Army. I am part of the 2nd Air Cavalry Division," the lead one said. He had a blade that was sheathed in a scabbard that smelt of leather and oil, while cradling a semi automatic rifle.

"The United States? There hasn't been a United States since it all happened," Israel muttered. The Sergeant boomed with laughter when he heard that.

"Son, there hasn't been a United States? Operation Wildfire. We retreated to the Rockies and killed millions on our way back. From Hawaii to the Midwest, all of the U.S clear with some sightings. We may be fewer in number, but we've kicked the Biters from every state that we've come across. We've lost a lot, but we bounce back," Sergeant Nell said back with jolliness.

"But how? We were abandoned. We were stuck here," Israel said back.

"We had to retreat. The infection hit us hard and trying to save everyone almost destroyed us. We bombed several cities to contain the infection only for it to spread. We retreated to Fort Bennings. Walkers almost overran us. We stopped them at our front door and we have returned. If you doubt us, look outside your walls."

Beth looked and what she saw was breathtaking. Dozens of men in the same armor, the insignia of the Old World United States embedded in their armor, glaring at the outside world. Wielding rifles that were identical to the one that Sergeant Nell had.

"What is that rifle?" Beth asked. Nell looked at his own and laughed again.

"Called the Standard Infantry Rifle. We call it SIR," and then Beth pointed to the massive blade on his back. He laughed again.

"This is called Lobo. Senor Lobo, once of the most dangerous weapons ever created by man. Cross between a shovel and a battleaxe, this thing will make sure that walkers have a very bad day. Now, the real reason why we came down here. We are asking that you rejoin the United States. We will leave you be, but we will remain outside. This is FOB Edwards. Walkers are still here in the area, and thousands of them are converging on Atlanta. If you want, we can transport your sick and your elderly, your children to a safe location in the Midwest," Sergeant Nell said.

"Why would we rejoin a government that abandoned us in our greatest time in need?" Israel asked. Nell again just chuckled.

"You want to know why? Because we are at war son. War against Walkers, war against nature, war against people. This prison is a target by rebels. Armed troops that don't give a flying shit about you. Hundreds of them. A little too used to being king and now that we are back, they are looking and spoiling for a fight. If you want to live, you might want to get the hell out of here," Sergeant Nell then walked forward, despite the rifles leveled at him.

"Because if you don't..." Nell then looked at the starry sky.

"All hell will break loose."

* * *

Joseph looked up. His head hurt like a bitch and the man saw stars. He then looked up. It was a walker about to eat his brains out. His hand went up, his armored glove saving him from impending death. He then snatched a knife from his chest and drove the blade right into the middle of the walker's forehead. The walker froze as the blade drove straight home. Another walker tried to bite his arm, only to be impeded by the Kevlar armor. Ejecting his blade from the other walker's head, he jabbed the walker right in the forehead, drawing blood and penetrating right in the brain, killing the undead menace.

He saw Carl groan, as the tank leveled its massive cannon straight at the crowd of Walkers.

And then it fired. A ripple of fire ripped from the tank, a massive explosive round taking out entire rows of walkers. Body parts went flying as the tank moved forward and the machine gun opened up, the belching of a 50 cal ripping through the mob as it was a cake being cut.

It was beautiful. Joseph locked hands with his rifle, lifting up and resting it on his lap. To his dismay, it had been destroyed by the tank. Crumpled and mangled, his trusty weapon of years was destroyed. He felt lost without, but had no time to mourn his loss, when another walker approached him, dead set on removing his brains. Scrambling to his feet, though it was difficult since the tank was firing its cannon, explosive rounds making swathes of walkers back to their undead graves, he made it to his feet, just as he saw Carl behead a walker with a fire axe.

Grinning, Joseph sprinted forward, his one knife now augmented by another blade being pulled it out; it was his pride and joy, along with his rifle. A bastard sword, called _Night's Watcher. _Charging, he unsheathed the blade and smashed right into the nearest walker. Pulling it by the hair, he jabbed the sword into its skull, while besides him, Carl swung his axe, cutting a bloody swathe straight into the crowd of walkers that were converging.

"Watch out!" he heard and he ducked, just as a walker's arm swung forward, intent on impaling him with its sharp nails. Grinning a bloody smile, he spun and decapitated the walker with a single swing.

"Thanks Carl," he said and turned to face him. Only it wasn't Carl. It was the girl that had also cut down walkers, casually firing rounds into the incoming crowd as the tank moved forward, rolling over the crowd of walkers, making a bloody fine paste.

He hadn't seen a sight so beautiful it hurt.


End file.
